


382. holy scent of trees

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [39]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah visits Helena in the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	382. holy scent of trees

The woods are so very very quiet, at this time of day – just snow. And Helena. And Sarah, following behind Helena all knotted up like she’s going to shiver out of her own skin. It isn’t the cold, Helena thinks. It’s the blank white empty space. It’s the face that this is Helena’s place, and she is a foreigner here.

_Don’t be afraid_ , Helena wants to say. _You let me into your house, and you gave me clothing and you gave me a family. Did you think I would forget?_

But Sarah would jump if Helena said that, like a deer that realizes Helena has gotten too close and runs. Best not.

“It’s quiet,” Sarah says, and her voice is like a roar in the middle of the icicle-silence.

“Yes,” Helena says. “Very peaceful. Good for thinking.”

“About what,” Sarah says. Her voice is strained. _Keep talking_.

“Mm,” Helena says. “Me. You. Family. My babies.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Shit,” Sarah mutters, “maybe I could use some time in a bloody national park.”

“You can take my place,” Helena says. “Oh! I could build you one.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

She doesn’t sound cruel – just Sarah, just Sarah who thinks Helena is funny sometimes but then mostly forgets about her. Helena knows. Helena loves her anyways – only there’s no _anyways_ about it, no _even though_. Helena knows. Helena loves her.

“We’re here,” Helena says, and they are. She goes through the door first, to make sure there aren’t any bones scattered on the floor. There aren’t! But the fire’s gone out. She lights it again, and her home gets warm.

“Oh, wow,” Sarah says from behind her. Helena can’t tell what kind of _wow_ it is – _Helena you’ve done so well_ or _I didn’t realize you were an animal_. Hard to tell, with Sarah! She decides to believe it’s the first one.

“Thank you,” she says. “Someone in a car threw away their door. So I took it. Also plastic bags! Many plastic bags in the trash, _sestra_. I do not understand.”

“Talk to Cosima about that shit,” Sarah says. “Bloody hippie, save the planet or whatever bullshit.” She sits down with a grunt of effort on the pile of pillows. Helena decides not to tell her where Alison sat on the second night. Sarah doesn’t need to know about Alison and the second night.

“I made tea,” she says, “from tree needles. It smells nice but tastes like garbage. Unless you add lots of sugar.”

“Let me guess,” Sarah says, smirking a little, “you just keep addin’ sugar ‘til it only tastes like sugar.”

“Yes?” Helena says, and Sarah snickers. It’s a good sound. Helena beams.

“Think I’ll pass,” Sarah says. “Also gonna pass on the stew, sorry. Alison had a lot to say about it.”

“ _Sestra_ Alison has weak stomach,” Helena says offhandedly. “Only tee-vee dinners and little cakes.” She thumps her own stomach. “Strong gut! Iron belly!”

“Don’t think I have one of those,” Sarah says.

“Yes,” Helena says. “I do not think so also.” She goes over to one of the shelves and finds a slightly dented Tupperware container. “But _sestra_ Alison knew, and she made you little cakes. In the Tupperwares.” She passes it to Sarah and heats herself up some stew.

“Thank god for Alison,” Sarah says sincerely, and pops the container open. For a moment it’s silent except for the sound of eating, which is one of Helena’s three favorite silences. It’s a good sort of quiet. Only the sound of bellies getting full.

“You were here the whole time?” Sarah says.

Helena shrugs. “Some. Other times I was on the bus. Or—” she holds out a thumb. Sarah laughs so hard she sprays crumbs.

“People let you—” she says. “With the bloody – hat, and shit?”

“Yes,” Helena says nobly. “They were very nice. I learned about Carly Rae Jepsen, and a musical about an American president. Much singing. A nice time, coming to and away from the park.”

Sarah’s looking at her and shaking her head, smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” she says.

“I believe,” Helena says.

“Yeah,” Sarah says, still shaking her head, “guess I do too.” She tilts the Tupperware in Helena’s direction. “Want one?”

Helena just looks at the container – how do you say it, how do you say _I still don’t know how to hold all the love in my heart when people give me food, you do it so easily, how do I thank you for it?_ She just takes a cake. She thinks Gemma did the frosting; it looks like hers. She pops the whole thing in her mouth.

“Thank you for coming to my house,” she says, the way Alison taught her.

“Wanted to see it,” Sarah says, and the words could come out flippant but instead they’re soft, kind. Sarah wanted to see where Helena calls home. Sarah wanted to be there, with her.

Helena is having that problem again, where she loves so much it hurts. She just chews the cake and smiles, big – she likes to think that even with a mouthful of cake Sarah can see the happy flashing of her teeth.

“Ew,” Sarah says, “close your mouth, meathead.” But Helena thinks that means that Sarah understands, and loves her too. So that’s alright.

**Author's Note:**

> The real story here is Alison on the second night, but I like to think we all know that story.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


End file.
